Harold's Odyssey Continues
by geowynpnn
Summary: A follow on from Harold's Odyssey where Harold Steptoe embarks on a journey that will change his life.
1. Chapter 1

First of all a million apologies to everyone who has read 'Harold's Odyssey', I had not realised just how much time had passed since I posted it so here are my excuses. Feel free to yell at me if it makes you feel better.

The main reason is I have not been able to access my account so have had to make a new one. This of course means I can't continue with 'Harold's Odyssey' with the old account so I will do a quick summary then on with the new.

Other reasons are my mother has had cancer(now clear)and my father is in the early stages of dementia. Things are not easy now but easier, so I will now let Harold continue his Odyssey. Thank you so much to all of you who read and reviewed the original post.

Harold, Albert and Hercules belong to the genius of Ray Galton and Alan Simpson, everyone else is my own creation.

Synopsis of 'Harold's Odyssey'

Harold Steptoe was a rag and bone man as his father had been and his father before him. Harold lived with his father in the house in Oildrum Lane and expected his life to continue in monotony and disappointment.

While out on his rounds one day a young woman had asked him to come to the local school and give her class a talk on the rag and bone business, which he had been happy to do.

Some time later he had met the woman again in a pub and she had introduced him to her friends. To his surprise they had welcomed him and included him in their group, not caring what he did for a living. It was the first time he had been accepted for himself and he liked it.

The group of friends were all taking night classes at the local art college and when Harold showed an interest they invited him to come to the college and have a go at drawing and painting.

When he got to the college the class teacher, François, mistook him for that night's life model. Even when Harold protested he was there to learn he was persuaded to model for the class, so long as he didn't have to be nude.

Harold's Odyssey Continued: Chapter 1

François took Harold into the storeroom where he was amazed to see racks of clothes and boxes of props.

"Is this what your models use when they pose?" He asked looking round.

"Indeed Harry. In this room I can equip a model with all they need for a particular look or era." He went to a rack and began to look through the outfits. "Tonight I have plans for Alexander the Great and I think you will be just perfect. I'm not bothering with footwear as it is just an upper body pose. Aha!" He turned to Harold holding a plain tunic and breastplate. "I think these will fit you. Try them on while I find the helmet and sword." At this point Harold hesitated.

"Can I keep my trousers on?" François kept rummaging through the boxes.

"Harry, three things for you to remember. One, I have a boyfriend. Two, I never mix business with pleasure. Three, you are not my type." He turned holding a helmet and brandishing a sword. "I think these will do nicely."

"I apologise if I caused any offence." Harold began but François waved his apology away.

"Think nothing of it Harry. Believe me I have heard a lot worse in my lifetime. Now you get changed while I tell the others what to expect, come out when you are ready." He opened the door then turned, a grin on his face. "You might consider taking your trousers off, I'm sure the ladies will appreciate it."

As soon as the door closed Harold began to undress, his mind in a whirl. He had not expected anything like this, he had only come to see if he could paint and draw. What were the others going to think when they saw him, would they laugh? No they wouldn't, they weren't like that. He put the tunic on, it came down to mid-thigh which wasn't too bad so he did remove his trousers. The breastplate fit over his head and tied at the sides, it fit rather well. He put the helmet on then picked up the sword.

"Ok." He said. "Let's go." He opened the door and marched out determinedly.

He was greeted by several wolf whistles, which almost sent him running back to the store room.

"Well." Said François. "Doesn't he look absolutely marvellous?"

"Every inch a conqueror." Said Roger.

"Look at those legs!" Exclaimed Jan. "Harry, you are a hunk." He could feel himself blushing as he walked to the chair in the middle of the circle of easels.

"Do you want me to sit or stand?" He waited while they discussed options. They decided to have him standing with one foot on the chair, holding up his sword while gazing into the distance.

"Imagine your army has just defeated the enemy and you are surveying the dead on the battlefield." Said François. "And let us know when you need a break, usually thirty minutes or so is the rule."

"I will, thank you." He took the pose. "Is that what you want?"

"Perfect."

He found it rather interesting, even though he was just standing there. The others chatted as they worked, occasionally asking him to move slightly, and François walked around commenting on their work.

At the end of thirty minutes there was the promised break and two of the women set about making tea and coffee. Harold sat on the chair, grateful for the chance to move.

"Tea or coffee Harry?" Asked Carole.

"Coffee please, milk and two sugars." They sat around and chatted while they drank their tea and coffee. Jan told François how she had come to meet Harold and how he had become part of their group. Once again he was surprised how the art teacher accepted him and his trade, asking him questions about his life.

"Perhaps one evening you could come in your work clothes so we can paint you."

"But I want to learn to paint." Protested Harold.

"And you will, next time you come in I will personally take you through the basics. I am just so pleased you were able to help us out of a fix tonight, they are getting a bit sick of fruit."


	2. Chapter 2

This chapter is dedicated to Nessdragon23 who is my first follower, favouriter and reviewer

Chapter 2

Harold felt more relaxed during the second half of the lesson and sat and watched the others busy at their easels. It was interesting to see how different they all were in their methods with some being flamboyant while others frowned as they worked.

"OK people." Said François. "That's enough for tonight. You can get dressed now Harold, I'm sure your friends will wait for you." Harold went into the store room and changed into his clothes. He put the armour back on the rack along with the tunic but didn't know where the sword and helmet were from so laid them on a box. When he left the store room he was pleased to see the others were waiting for him.

"You were amazing Harry." Said Yvonne. "I have never known how people can be so still for such a long time."

"I didn't really think about it." He admitted. "I just did it."

"Well we are all very grateful Harry." Said Pete. "As François said, much better than fruit." They all laughed at this.

"Could I see a couple of your pictures?" Harry asked. "I would love to see how you saw me." Jan immediately got hers out, his head and torso done in charcoal. There was little detail to his face but he could tell it was him.

"Am I really that muscular?"

"Oh yes." Said Louise with a giggle that caused him to redden.

"Tell me what you think of mine." Roger put his canvas on the chair. It was larger than Jan's and he had used oils to represent Harold as Alexander standing on a rocky outcrop and gazing into the distance.

"As you can see." Said Yvonne. "Roger is on the flamboyant side." Harold looked at the details of the picture, Roger had used browns and reds and greys to make a very dramatic picture.

"I like it, I like it very much."

Just as they were preparing to leave François came over to Harold and handed him a pound note. Harold looked at it and then at François.

"It's your fee, all life models get fifty pence an hour."

"But I'm not a model." He protested.

"You were tonight Harry." This was Ben. "You got us all out of a right fix and we are very thankful."

"Oh well, in that case thank you very much. But next time I come I want to paint." Yvonne linked his arm as they left the room.

"Don't worry Harry, we will make sure you paint."

Yvonne and Roger made their excuses and left the others to the pub opposite the art school. They assembled around a table in the lounge and Stuart and Ben went to get the drinks while the others talked about the evening.

"Will I be able to see the rest of the painting of me?" Asked Harold. "I would like to see how everyone sees me. I'm usually invisible see, people don't notice a rag and bone man unless they've got something to get rid of. I don't think anyone has really looked at me before, not properly, and that felt very strange, but I really would like to see what you all saw." The others exchanged glances, this was the first time Harold had really opened up about himself, he usually kept his conversation to general topics.

"You can see mine with pleasure." Said Louise. "I would love your opinion of it. Unlike the rest of them I actually like still lifes, I'm not all that good with people, but I had a good go and I hope you like it."

"Oh I'm sure I will."

After a couple of drinks he said his goodbyes and left to catch the bus back to Shepherds Bush. The nearer to home he got he felt as though he was moving from light to dark, from the bright time he had with his friends to the dismal normality of his home life.

 _I have to get out, I can't live like this. I can't let it drag me down, I can't let him drag me down._

He got off the bus and walked around the corner to the yard. His feet moved slower and slower as he made his way through the scrap to the door of the house where he had been born and was now beginning to hate. With a sigh he opened the door and entered the little hallway. He was surprised to see the living room in darkness, Albert usually waited up to have a go at him for staying out so long and leaving an old man all alone. He put the light on to see if the old man had fallen asleep in his chair by the fire but it was empty. He reckoned this was the first time that had ever happened, then wondered if his father had gone to bed early because he was ill.

"No." He said firmly. "You are not going to feel guilty about having a life." He climbed the stairs to see Albert's bedroom door was closed. Normally he would have gone in to see if everything was alright but tonight he stopped himself, he was not going to be manipulated any longer. He went into the bathroom then into his bedroom and closed the door.


	3. Chapter 3

I forgot the disclaimer in the previous chapter. Harold, Albert and Hercules belong to the genius partnership that is Alan Galton and Ray Simpson, to whom I give thanks for such wonderful creations.

Chapter 3

Harold had a hard time sleeping with all that was going through his head, he felt tonight had been a turning point in his life.

 _But what am I to do next? Where do I go from here? I want a better life but all I know is totting. I've no money to speak of, no qualifications, no talent of any description. What can I do?_

After tossing and turning for what seemed like hours he eventually fell into a fitful sleep that gave him no rest. He dreamed the world was a huge canvas and he was being painted or drawn into bizarre situations by people who hated him.

He woke with a start then realised where he was and gave a huge sigh of relief.

"I don't want to go through that again." He got washed and shaved and put on his work clothes and went downstairs where he found Albert in the kitchen cooking sausages.

"Good morning Pater."

"What time did you manage to crawl back this morning?" Snarled the old man. "I tried waiting up but there was nothing on the telly so I went to bed. You don't wanna have too many late nights or it'll affect your work."

"Oh yes." Replied Harold. "I will find it so difficult to keep a hold of the reins. I've been doing the round so long now Hercules knows it better than I do, I could have a kip in the back of the cart while he walks around the streets." He put 2 sausages on a slice of bread and poured a cup of tea.

"And another thing." Went on Albert. "Suppose something happened to me while you are out and I don't know how to get hold of you?"

"Ring for an ambulance."

"And suppose I can't talk? Suppose I'm laying here for hours in excruciating pain waiting for you to come in?" Harold raised his eyes to the ceiling.

"I could never be that bloody lucky."

"Waddya mean by that?"

"I've been waiting years for you to kick the bucket but you carry on and carry on. I reckon you'll see me off."

"You miserable little bleeder, you'll be sorry when I am gone." But he was talking to the door Harold had slammed on his way out.

Harold hitched Hercules to the cart and left the yard. He was fond of the horse, probably the only living thing he had any affection for.

"You don't judge me do you boy? You don't care what I do or how I look or how much I make so long as you have your oats and the odd carrot. And you always listen to me without grumbling." At this the elderly horse turned his head as if he was agreeing with Harold.

It was a pleasant day, warm with a slight breeze. These were the kind of days Harold liked best. He could pretend he was a nob in his carriage, out at his leisure with not a care in the world.

 _Pull yourself together Harold, you are a totter and you always will be. It's about time you stopped all this ridiculous daydreaming and got back to the real world._

"Jan is the real world. And Pete and Stuart and Louise and the others. Perhaps it's not so bad after all. Home might be grotty but I can go out with my friends for a few hours and forget about it." That cheered him a little and he began to hum as they rode through the streets.

He had had worse days, much worse if he was truthful, but he still felt despondent as he and Hercules made their way back to Oildrum Lane. After rubbing the horse down and giving him his oats he went into the house, fast becoming his least favourite place to be.

"Is that you Harold?"

"Yes father, it is I, home from my weary toils." He flopped into an armchair with a sigh.

"Well you'll have to go out again, we need milk."

"Didn't the milkman deliver this morning?"

"He says we don't get no more milk until the bill is paid." Harold got to his feet and went into the kitchen.

"What do you mean no milk until the bill is paid? I give you money for the milk every week, what have you been doing with it?"

"I meant to pay the milkman Harold, honest I did."

"Then why didn't you?" Harold asked through gritted teeth. Albert cowered under his son's angry gaze.

"There was this horse you see -." Before he could utter another word Harold grabbed his shirt and pulled him up so they were eye-to-eye.

"You spent the milk money on a nag?" Unable to speak his father nodded, his eyes bulging with fear. "And just how long have you been doing this? The milkman doesn't stop delivering if we don't pay him for one week. How long?" Albert was gibbering now, he didn't often see Harold this angry.

"Don't hurt me Harold, please. I'm an old man." Harold ignored this.

"How long Dad?"

"Six weeks." He managed to gasp.

"Six weeks? You haven't paid the milkman for six weeks? No wonder he won't deliver any more." He let go of the old man who collapsed on the floor gasping for breath.

"I'm sorry Harold."

"Not as sorry as you are going to be." He went upstairs and changed out of his work clothes. When he came down his father was waiting for him.

"I've got your tea ready Son."

"I don't want any."

"It's liver and onions."

"I said I don't want any." He left the house and banged the door, Albert opened it to call after him.

"Harold, come back. Don't leave like this. I'm sorry Son, truly. I won't do it again." But Harold was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

On we go. Poor Harold is in a bad way, but this is not going to be dark so don't worry. I can't say when I am going to post each chapter but this story will be completed.

As always I don't own the characters of Harold, Albert and Hercules.

Chapter 4

Harold didn't care where he was going, he just wanted to get away from home.

 _Home? That's a laugh. It's not home, it's where I sleep. I can't keep doing this, I can't live like this._

He walked for what seemed like hours but when he checked his watch he had been out about 90 minutes. It wasn't a cold night but he really wanted a cup of tea. Looking around to get his bearings he realised there was an all-night cafe a few streets away so made his way there.

A few minutes later he entered the cafe, it was cheap and cheerful and surprisingly clean. He walked up to the counter.

"Hello Harold, long time no see." Said the man behind the counter, a tall, heftily built man with red hair and a permanent smile.

"Hello Bert, give us a cup of tea will you."

"Coming right up. Take a seat and I'll bring it over." Harold looked around at the empty tables, choosing one in the corner out of the way. Bert brought two teas over and sat down with him. "Don't often see you in here at this time Harold, you starting early?"

"Nah mate. I was out walking and fancied a cup of tea."

"Something wrong mate? You don't look right to me." Harold gave a huge sigh.

"How long have you got?" Bert looked around the empty cafe.

"Unless a coach load come in I reckon I've got a few hours. It's a bit slow at the moment."

So Harold told him. He told Bert everything that had happened the last few weeks, how he had managed to get some sort of life for himself and how his father still wanted to bring him down. Bert listened silently, only stopping Harold to get two fresh mugs of tea.

Eventually Harold stopped talking and drank his now cold tea. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, then Bert got to his feet.

"Fancy a fry-up Harold?" Harold stared at him. "You must be hungry, I know I am. You like a bit of everything don't you?" Harold nodded. "OK, won't be long." And he went into the kitchen, leaving Harold completely baffled. He had just poured his heart out to this man and now he had left him to cook breakfast? He considered leaving but his stomach was growling at the thought of a breakfast he could only dream of at home.

Bert returned shortly with two plates which he put down before fetching cutlery.

"Get your laughing gear around that Harold." Harold looked down at his plate. It held bacon, sausage, egg, mushrooms, beans, tomatoes and fried bread. And it smelled wonderful. He picked up his knife and fork and started to dig in.

Strangely, after confessing to Bert and now eating his breakfast he was feeling much better, things didn't seem anywhere near as bad as they had when he was walking the streets.

 _I'll go back when I've eaten this. I'll thank Bert then make my way home, Dad won't know a thing. Living there isn't so bad, I can stick it._

When they had both eaten Bert got them both another mug of tea then sat and looked squarely at Harold.

"OK Harold mate, I've decided what you should do."

"So have I." Said Harold. "Your listening to me and eating that great breakfast has made me feel positive again, sorry if I made you miserable." He went to get up but Bert stopped him.

"How may times has this happened Harold? How many times has your dad driven you to walk out only for you to go skulking back? How many more times does this have to happen before you realise he is just draining you of all the good in your life?"

"But-but-" Began Harold, but Bert held up his hand.

"You are going to tell me he needs you aren't you? He doesn't need you, he needs someone whose life he can control. Is that really what you want? I know he's old and he won't last forever, but while he is here do you really want him making your life miserable? And enjoying watching the life draining from you, taking away everything you enjoy, everything you want to do." Harold said nothing, he didn't know what to say to that. "Know what your problem is Harold? You are loyal to the point of destroying yourself. It is time you started thinking about Harold, not Albert the leech."

"He's not a leech."

"Yes he is, he always has been and always will be." Harold opened his mouth then closed it. Bert was right, he couldn't deny it. He had been denying it for so many years but now he had to admit it. He looked helplessly at Bert.

"What can I do?"


	5. Chapter 5

I have to say I am really enjoying writing this. I have had the story in my head for years, now I just have to type and post it

As always Harold, Albert and Hercules are owned by the geniuses of Galton and Simpson.

Chapter 5

"First we find you somewhere to live and then we find you a job."

"What about my dad?"

"He is not important, you are. You know there is a flat upstairs." Harold nodded. "It has 2 bedrooms. If you can help me here in the cafe occasionally you can stay there for a while."

"I can't cook."

"You don't have to, just clear the tables and wipe them down when it's busy. You can butter bread and peel spuds too. And sit in here when it is busy, stop any trouble. You're a big lad, I doubt anyone will want to mess with you."

"I can do that, but will it be enough?"

"Be company for me since Grace left." Bert's wife was dead and their daughter was married. "You can have the run of the place and pay me rent when you are settled in a job." Harold groaned.

"Where am I going to get a job? I'm over 40 and all I've ever known is totting, who is going to employ me?"

"Factories mate, they are crying out for people. Paying good money too and you don't need any experience. Chap who comes in here is a foreman, they don't just want youngsters."

"What factory?" Harold was interested despite his misgivings.

"Cornwell's, down by the river. They make washing machines, more people are buying them now and they have orders to keep them busy for months. It will put some money in your pocket, what have you got to lose?"

"Nothing I suppose."

"Go on Harold, take that first step." Harold looked at him, then nodded.

"Right, I'll do it."

"Good for you Harold." Bert looked at his watch. "It's gone 3. Go up to the flat and get some kip, then you can get off to Cornwell's about 10. You can use my razor, have a bath if you like, then come back here when you have some good news for me."

"How can I ever repay you Bert?" Bert grinned.

"I'm sure you'll think of something. Get off upstairs, I'll try not to wake you when I come up."

Feeling as though he was dreaming Harold made his way up to the flat over the cafe. He found the spare room, undressed and got into bed. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

After the best night's sleep he could remember Harold got up, washed and shaved then got dressed and went into the kitchen. Bert was in bed but he had left a note.

 _Harold,_

 _Hope you slept well. Help yourself to cereal and toast._

 _Good luck for this morning._

 _Bert._

He had a bowl of cornflakes and a mug of tea, then washed his dishes, put on his coat and left the flat.

He caught a bus to the river and found the factory. The man on the gate told him where to go and he was soon knocking on the door of Personnel.

Thirty minutes later he left the factory having become an employee of Cornwell's, starting the following Monday.

"Well?" Demanded Bert as soon as he got through the door. "I take it you went."

"I went." Said Harold taking off his coat and putting it on the back of a chair. "It's a big place."

"I know it is." Bert was getting impatient. "Do I have to beat it out of you?" Harold grinned at him.

"You are now looking at the newest warehouseman at Cornwell's starting next Monday morning."

"Well done mate." Bert shook his hand warmly. "I knew you could do it."

"I have to go home Bert."

"Why?"

"To get my stuff, my clothes and everything. I don't have much but I want it with me."

"What about Albert? You know what a wheedling little bleeder he is."

"I am expected at Cornwell's on Monday, I'm not going to let them down."


	6. Chapter 6

I bet you can't wait to see what happens in this chapter. Me neither, lol.

As usual Albert, Harold and Hercules belong to the geniuses that are Alan Simpson and Ray Galton.

Chapter 6

Harold crept in as quietly as he could but had forgotten just what his father could be like. He was about to tiptoe upstairs when he heard;

"Where the bleeding hell have you been all night?" Although he wanted to get his things and leave as speedily as he could he knew there would have to be a confrontation. He walked slowly into the living room where Albert sat glaring at him.

"Did you call Father?"

"Don't give me that you arrogant little worm. Where were you last night? I know you weren't home because I waited up for you."

"I don't believe you. I'm a grown man, I can stay out all night if I want to, and I don't have to explain myself to you."

"Yes you do, I'm your father." Harold finally gained the courage to say what he had longed to for years.

"You have never been my father, you have never cared about me. When have I ever received help from you or any praise at all for anything I have done? All you have done all through my life is bring me down, send me out to work and leech off me. I have not had a life all the time I have been here with you and I have had enough. I am leaving here for good. I am going to collect my things and go to start a new life without you." Albert was stunned at this outburst but was still able to speak.

"And where are you going to go? What are you going to do for money? You'll be crawling back here within a week." Instead of replying Harold went up to his room where he collect his clothes and few precious possessions. He looked around at the room where he had spent most of his life then left it and closed the door.

When he got back downstairs Albert was still in the living room.

"I'm off now Father, I don't know when I will see you again. I wish you all the best."

"Ha! I told you, you'll be back here in less than a week."

"That is where you are wrong." Said Harold. "I have a place to live and a new job starting Monday."

"But what about me? What am I going to do for money? Who is going to take the cart out?"

"I don't know and I don't particularly care. Goodbye Father." As he left the house, closing the door behind him, he could hear Albert calling after him.

"Harold! Harold! Come back, don't leave a poor old man on his own. Harold!"

Harold kept going.

AN I felt this needed a chapter of its own, sorry it's so short.


	7. Chapter 7

So here we are, Harold has finally managed to escape his home, his father and his old here we are, Harold has finally managed to escape his home, his father and his old life. What happens next? I hear you ask. Let's find out.

As always Albert, Harold and Hercules belong to Galton and Simpson and no-one else.

Chapter 7

Harold walked away from Oildrum Lane almost in a daze.

 _I did it, I actually did it. I told him what I thought of him and I left. I'm free!_

He picked up speed and made the bus stop as a bus arrived. Jumping on he turned to watch Oildrum Lane disappear, feeling all his cares leave him as he lost sight of it.

Harold reached the cafe where Bert was busy making sandwiches. He waved his knife at Harold.

"Hello there Harold, everything ok mate?"

"Couldn't be better Bert."

"Glad to hear it. Your room is ready so go up whenever you like."

"I'll do that, thanks." And he went upstairs. He found the room as he had left it, small and comfortable. _And all mine!_

When he had unpacked his belongings and set them out to his liking he went back down to see Bert.

"Anything I can do to help Bert?"

"Pour us a cup of tea Harold, I'm parched here."

"Cup of tea coming up." By the time he brought the tea over Bert had finally finished the sandwiches and packed them in a box.

"Thanks Harold, come and sit down and tell me how it went with Albert."

"Not much to tell to be honest, he had a go at me, I had a go at him and told him what I thought. Packed my stuff and left. He was yelling at me to come back but I ignored him."

"Good lad, I'm proud of you, Can't have been easy."

"Easier than I thought it would be. I told him how I felt and why I was leaving. Of course he said I would be back within a week until I told him I have a job, you should have seen his face! That's when he started wheedling."

"Did he pull the 'You can't leave an old man on his own?' line?"

"Oh yes. I could still hear him as I closed the door." Harold began to laugh, a really belly laugh, the kind he had not enjoyed for years. Bert joined in and they laughed until their faces ached.

"I feel so good." Said Harold wiping tears from his face. "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this Bert."

"It is my pleasure mate, truly. It's good to see you looking and sounding so good. Now I have to pop upstairs for a few minutes, if anyone comes in give them a cuppa and I'll be down soon. Oh, and if a young lady called Janet comes in that box of sandwiches are for her. She has paid me."

"Righto Bert." He settled back in his chair and watched people go by as he drank his tea.

After five minutes or so the door opened and a woman came into the cafe.

"Is Bert not here?"

"He's just nipped upstairs, he won't be long."

"Has he left a box of – Harry?"

"Jan! When he said Janet I never thought it would be you. The box is on the counter, do you need any help with it?"

"I can manage thanks, but what are you doing here?"

"I live here now."

"What?"

"If you can spare a few minutes I can tell you what has happened." She looked at her watch.

"I would love to but I can't, I have to get back. Tell you what, come and join us at the pub later and you can tell us all. We are having a quiz night, that's what the sandwiches are for, we take it in turns to supply the food and Bert does great sandwiches."

"I would love to, what pub and what time?"

"The Grapes, get there for half 8. Quiz starts at 9."

"I'll be there, thanks Jan."

"Later Harry." She picked up the box and left. He sat back in his chair and finished his tea, this day was getting better and better.

Bert came down a couple of minutes later and saw the sandwiches were gone.

"Janet came in then Harold?"

"Yes. She said you make the best sandwiches."

"Nice of her to say so, she's a nice girl."

"Oh I know, really nice."

"You know her then?" Harold told Bert how he had met Jan and his visit to the school and how he had met her friends and finally how he had ended up posing for their art class.

"Blimey Harold, I hope you weren't naked."

"Not a hope of that mate. I wore some armour, I think I was supposed to be Alexander the Great. I get to do some of my own next time."

"What, painting?"

"Why not? It's something I've never done and I've always wanted to try it. They are my friends so they won't laugh at me if I make a fool of myself."

"Well if Janet is anything to go by you've got yourself some good friends there."

"Yes I have, for the first time in my life Bert."

"I'm happy to see it Harold."

"You're my friend too Bert - ." He began hurriedly, but Bert waved his hand with a chuckle.

"You and me are mates Harold, and it's good to have mates like us. But friends, they are different. You go out and enjoy yourself with your friends."

"Thanks Bert."


	8. Chapter 8

Is Harold free? It certainly seems things are finally going his way.

As always Harold, Albert and Hercules are owned by Ray Galton and Alan Simpson, geniuses beyond compare.

Chapter 8

Harold said goodbye to Bert and made his way to The Grapes, a friendly, welcoming pub that sold very good beer.

As he entered the noisy lounge he looked around for his friends.

"Harry, over here!" Looking around he saw a group of people waving to him from a table in the corner. He signalled he had seen them and bought a pint before making his way over to them and sitting on the only spare stool.

"Good to see you Harry, glad you could join us."

"Thanks, I saw Jan when she collected the sandwiches and she told me you were here tonight and invited me along. I've never played in a quiz before, I might not be able to answer any questions."

"Don't worry about that." Said Roger cheerfully. "We play for fun, not to win."

"I rarely answer a question." Said Yvonne. "But they still let me play." They all laughed at that.

"Jan tells us you have news." Said Pete. "Do tell." Harold took a swallow of his beer.

"It all started after I left you the other night." He went on to tell them all that had happened since he last saw them. They didn't interrupt him but there were several expletives when it came to his battle with his father.

"So that's it." He finished. "Everything has changed since you last saw me, and all for the better."

"You certainly look good for it Harry, you're a different person."

"I feel a different person Ben, I really do. I'm free."

"So you are now living with Bert who makes the sandwiches for us?" This was Carole.

"Yes, he's been brilliant. He's the one who encouraged me to do it and now he's letting me stay with him. I don't think I'll ever be able to thank him for what he has done."

"You will, when you make something of your life and don't go back to that git of a father of yours." The rest of them nodded.

"Yes, you are probably right."

The quiz began. From the start it was easy to see which teams took it seriously and which ones were there for the fun of it. To Harold's surprise and the delight of the team he answered a couple of questions which took them into third place.

"You are definitely our lucky mascot Harry." Said Stuart as there was a break for drinks. "We have never done this well before."

"I was lucky." Harold admitted. "I haven't known any of the other answers."

"Doesn't matter." This was Yvonne. "You knew the answers when the rest of us didn't, those points could be crucial."

The quiz restarted. As most of the players had been drinking throughout it became a little less serious and a little more rowdy, though still on the friendly side. To their astonishment Harold's team were doing really well and were in second place.

"They don't like it." Said Roger indicating the team who usually won. Harold looked over and saw the 3 men and a woman giving them very dirty looks.

"Do them good to have some competition for once." Said Jan. "They are always so smug when they win, as if they are better than us."

It came down to the final question.

"Ok everyone." Said the landlord. "Listen carefully, this is the last question. What is another name for a rag-and-bone-man?" The team looked at each other in amazement and burst out laughing. "Quiet please." The landlord admonished.

"They don't know." Said Louise. "Look at their faces." It was true, the other team were completely stumped by the question.

They celebrated their win with more drinks as everyone enjoyed the sandwiches.

"You really did bring us luck Harry." Said Pete. "We wouldn't have got that last question if we hadn't known you, plus the questions you answered.

We'll probably never come close to winning again but thanks to you this has been a great night."

 _It has been a great night, one of the best nights of my life._


	9. Chapter 9

As always I owe everything to the genius of the writers Ray Galton and Alan Simpson who brought the Steptoes to life.

Chapter 9

Harold woke early Monday morning and prepared for work. When he got downstairs he found a cooked breakfast and a mug of tea waiting for him.

"You are spoiling me Bert." He said as he began to eat.

"You need a good breakfast inside you today mate. I've made you some sandwiches to take with you for lunch."

"You know Bert, you are going to make some lucky man a wonderful wife one day." At this Bert threw back his head and roared with laughter.

Harold caught the bus that would drop him off close to work, wondering if any of his fellow passengers were also fellow workers.

 _Today really is a whole new beginning for me._

The bus stopped and several of the passengers got off and made their way to the factory. Harold made a mental note to speak to them the following day, or even that evening when they took the bus home.

It was hard work and his body ached by the time the buzzer went, but he had never felt so good or satisfied.

"You the new bloke?" This was asked as he left the factory and made his way to the bus stop.

"Yes, I started today."

"Thought I hadn't seen you before." He held out his hand. "Tom, Tom Tulley." Harold took his hand and shook it warmly.

"Harold Steptoe."

"Good to meet you Harold."

"My friends call me Harry." Tom beamed.

"It's a pleasure Harry. What did you think of the place?"

"It's good. Noisy, but you get used to that. Everyone was friendly, one or two helped me out when I had a problem. I never felt like the new bloke, if you know what I mean."

"I do, it was like that when I first started here. Where were you before Harry?"

"I was a rag-and-bone man."

"One of the old trades. A few weeks ago my kid came home from school and told us all about this rag-and-bone man who had visited the school with his horse and told them all about it. They were able to pet his horse and he answered all the questions they had. Mikey, that's my kid, said it was one of the best lessons they ever had."

"I just had enough mate. It's a dying trade now and I wanted more out of life while I'm still young enough to enjoy it."

"Don't blame you Harry, don't blame you at all."

The bus came and they got on. Sitting together they found they were only "See you tomorrow Harry." Said Tom as he got off.

"See you Tom, and say hello to Mikey for me."

"Will do."

Harold got off at the next stop and was soon at the cafe. Bert grinned as he closed the door.

"Hello there Harold, how's it gone then?"

"Amazing mate, I don't think I've ever worked so hard in my life but I feel great."

"That's what I like to hear. Want a cuppa before you go up?"

"No thanks mate, I want a bath."

"OK, come down when you are ready."

Harold lay soaking in a hot bath, thinking what had happened today. He could feel all his aches, both physical and mental, melting away in the water.

"I'm a working man, an actual working man."


	10. Chapter 10

As always Albert, Harold and Hercules are owned by Alan Simpson and Ray Galton, comedy writers extraordinaire.

Chapter 10

Harold thought he was living in a dream, this couldn't be his life could it?

He had a job he enjoyed and was making good money, he had a decent home for once with his friend Bert, he had his friends at the art school and he was learning to draw.

François had seen his attempts with charcoal and had given him a few tips which had given him confidence. Although he knew he would never be an artist it brought out the artistic side in him that had always been quashed.

One evening he had attempted a horse's head which had turned out better than he expected. Francois had always said less is more so he made it as simple as he could and didn't overwork it.

"That's Hercules!" He turned to see Jan.

"You recognise him?"

"I should say so, you've captured him perfectly. That is a true labour of love." The others gathered round and complimented him on his drawing.

"You are talented Harry." Said Louise. "I have never dared try drawing a horse."

"It's my horse, Hercules." Said Harold. "I worked with him a long time. I used to talk to him, tell him all my dreams and hopes. He seemed to understand. I suppose he was my best friend, the only one I could talk to. I suppose you all think I'm daft don't you?"

"Not at all Harry." Said Roger. "I think you were very lucky to have Hercules, not everyone has a friend like him."

"I miss him. I would go and see him but I know what my dad will say and I don't want to hear it. I'm just getting my life together and he will only try to bring me down again."

"Perhaps some of us could go with you." Suggested Carole. "Strength in numbers."

"I wouldn't want any of you anywhere near that old git. It's a lovely idea Carole and I appreciate it, but I know him. He would yell and use the most awful language and I certainly don't want you ladies hearing it. He would call you tarts and probably worse and I think too much of you as friends to put you through that."

"Then we will come with you." This was Pete. "He won't be able to say anything to upset us, we will give it him back, and you can see Hercules and make sure he is alright." Harold stared at him.

"You would do that for me?" He stammered.

"Would you do it for me?" Asked Roger. "Or for any of us?"

"Of course I would."

"There you go, that's what friends do for each other." Harold was almost in tears, he had not expected this at all.

"We'll go Saturday, you don't work Saturday do you Harry?" Said Pete.

"No, no I don't. If that's ok with all of you."

"We'll meet at Bert's for breakfast then make our way there, that sound good to the rest of you?"

"We are coming to the cafe too." Said Jan. "For support."

"Thanks Jan. That's a date then everyone, 10 o'clock Saturday at Bert's."


	11. Chapter 11

I am sorry it has taken so long to upload this chapter. As well as it being a rather difficult chapter to write as I wasn't sure which way to take it I have had problems with my laptop. The keyboard stopped working which is rather a hindrance when you want to type something. Now the shiny new laptop is in place and I am ready to go.

As always the characters of Harold, Albert and Hercules belong to the comedy geniuses of Ray Galton and Alan Simpson.

Chapter 11

They all arrived at the cafe as Harold was washing dishes. Bert supplied them with tea and coffee while they waited for him to join them.

"Not having anything to eat Harry?" Asked Louise. He shook his head.

"Can't face anything yet, just want to get this done."

"Come on then Harry." Said Pete. All the men got up, then Jan came over and hugged Harold.

"Good luck Harry, I know how difficult this must be for you. We'll wait for you here."

"Thanks Jan, I appreciate it." The men left the cafe and got into Roger's car. The girls watched them drive off.

"Don't worry ladies." Bert came over with more coffee and a plate of cakes. "He will be fine."

The short drive was silent. The men sensed Harry did not want to talk so they sat quietly until they reached Oil Drum Lane. Harold got out without speaking and looked at the gates which were closed.

"Why are they closed? They shouldn't be closed." He opened the gates and entered the yard. They heard him call out "Hercules?" Then an agonised "No!" Without a word they all got out of the car and ran into the yard where they saw Harold banging on the door of the house.

"I know you are in there you rancid old git!" He yelled. The door gave way and Harry barged into the house, by the time the others had followed him in he was in the living room with his hands around the throat of a skinny old man in an armchair.

"No Harry!" Pete and Roger pulled him away. "This is not the way to do it. Calm down." They held him firmly and pulled him away from the old man.

"Where is Hercules?" Demanded Harold. "What have you done with him?"

"I had to get rid of him Harold, I couldn't do the round myself and I couldn't afford to feed him without you here. I'm sorry son, I really am."

"You sent him to the knackers yard?" Harold's voice was cold. "That horse that has worked hard for us all these years, you sent him to the knackers yard?"

"I didn't Harold, honest I didn't."

"Then where is he?" Harold snarled.

"The milkman had him."

"What?"

"I gave him to the milkman so he would let me have milk again, I couldn't afford to buy any."

"You gave him to the milkman?"

"Yes Harold, I gave him to the milkman. You can go and see him if you like, the milkman will let you. I wouldn't send him to the knackers yard Harold, I wouldn't."

"You care more about that horse than you do me." Said Harold in a low voice.

"That's because he never left me to fend for myself." Spat the old man. "He was always here, working hard and helping us make money. That's why I didn't send him to the knackers, because he was loyal. Not like you you snivelling no-good loser. Running off and not telling me where you were, leaving me with this house and the yard and the horse. You miserable little git." Without another word Harold left the house, banging each door as he went through it. "And good riddance." The men looked at the old man. "And what are you all looking at?"

"You really shouldn't talk to him like that." Said Stuart.

"And why not? It's all true. He's a snivelling, useless, no-good loser."

"Actually Mr Steptoe." This was Pete. "Your son has a home, a good job and friends who like and respect him. I didn't believe him when he told us about you, I honestly thought he was exaggerating, but now I see he wasn't. If this is how you have spoken to him and treated him all his life I am surprised he is sane and as nice as he is. You really are a nasty, vicious, grasping old leach and Harry is well rid of you." Before Albert could respond Pete turned and left the house, followed by the others.


	12. Chapter 12

Ray Galton and Alan Simpson are the geniuses who created the characters of Harold, Albert and Hercules and I offer them my grateful thanks.

Chapter 12

By the time they reached the car there was no sign of Harold.

"He could have jumped on a bus." Suggested Stuart. "Wouldn't have mattered where it was going, he just wanted to get away from here."

"Who can blame him?" Said Pete. "What a poisonous old man, how the hell did he survive it so long?"

"I thought it was all exaggerated." This was Ben. "I believed he had had a rough life but I thought he was making it up about his father. If you can call him that."

"How do we find him?" Said Stuart. "We can't leave him alone like this but we have no idea where he has gone." Roger snapped his fingers.

"I bet I know where he is. Find a phone box."

"A phone box, what for?"

"Just find one."

There was one just around the corner. Roger went in and found the directory. They watched as he leafed through it for a couple of minutes then put it back and came over to the car grinning broadly.

"Do you know Sandford Terrace?"

"Yes."

"Then let's go."

They found Harold in the yard of Bell's Dairy hugging and stroking a horse who clearly recognised him. He was smiling and talking to the horse and looked nothing like the man who had left the house in Oil Drum Lane a few minutes ago.

"Ok." Said Stuart. "How did you know he would be here?"

"He loves the horse and wanted to see him. I looked in the directory for the dairy closest to the house and came here."

"How is he Harry?" Asked Pete.

"He is great." Harold was stroking the horse's ears. "He's well looked after here, plenty of good food and he only goes out for a couple of hours each day. It's almost a holiday for him." He patted the horse who whinnied softly. "Thanks for coming with me. I really think I would have killed him if I had been on my own."

"We all owe you an apology Harry." He looked puzzled.

"What for? All you have ever done is be nice to me and support me."

"We didn't believe your dad was as bad as you made him out to be, we thought you were exaggerating. Now we know it was all true and we are sorry for not believing you." Harold smiled sadly.

"I don't blame you. Who would have believed me? I wouldn't have believed me in your position." He continued to croon at Hercules while stroking his mane. "I don't care what happens to that old git now I know Hercules is safe and looked after."

I started this chapter before Christmas but real life got in the way. Please accept my sincere apologies for the shortness of it. The next chapter will be up soon with Harold enjoying his life without his father.


	13. Chapter 13

All I seem to be doing recently is apologising but here is another.

Real life has taken over for a while and I really have not had the time to write. Having said that, I have had time to think and I now know exactly how this story is going, I just hope you enjoy it.

As always, all credit must go to the genius of Ray Galton and the late Alan Simpson. Thank you for all the laughs gentlemen.

This is Chapter 13, good thing I'm not superstitious.

The girls were stunned when the boys got back and told them about their encounter with Albert.

"How on earth has he managed all these years?" Asked Louise. "And how has he turned out to be so nice?" The others nodded, they were all very fond of Harold, especially the girls.

"He's always been the same" Said Bert who was busy handing out teas and coffees to the group. "Ever since he was a kid. He never got into any fights, and god knows he was tormented enough over his dad being a totter. Albert had him out on the cart with him as soon as he was six. You can imagine what of life, I've never seen him so happy since he met you."

"Better late than never." Said Pete. "I'm glad we were able to help."

"Do you think perhaps we shouldn't mention this to Harry?" Said Yvonne. "I would hate to hurt his feelings if he thought we had been talking about him. It's bad enough for him as it is now we know what his life has been like." There were murmurs of agreement just as Harold came into the café.

"Hello Harry." Said Jan. "The boys were just agreeing with me how beautiful Hercules is."

"He's a fine-looking horse Harry." Said Roger. "You've done a great job looking after him." Harold smiled a little sadly.

"It was always my job to groom him and feed him, even before I ran the cart. I have always told him all my troubles, my dreams too."

"He clearly loves you." Said Stuart. "There are members of my family who aren't as pleased to see me as he was to see you." This brought a real smile to Harold's face.

"At least I know he is going to be well looked after for the rest of his life, and I can visit him whenever I like." He went to go upstairs then turned to look at the boys and said simply. "Thanks."

The visit to Oildrum Lane was never mentioned again, for which Harold was truly grateful. He had been mortified by the way his father had behaved while his friends were there, thinking they would not want to know him once they knew from where he had come. They had proved to be true friends, treating him the way they always had.

Life went on, and it was good. He went to work, which he loved; he helped in the café, which meant meeting people; he went to art college, where he had discovered quite a talent for drawing and sketching.

Occasionally Francois would ask him to pose if the booked model didn't turn up, now he was more comfortable he was happy to do this and rather enjoyed it

He had mentioned moving out of his room above the café but Bert had waved off his suggestion.

"I like having you here Harold, you are good company." Adding with a wink. "And you bring your friends in."

It was almost a year later when Harold was woken by Bert banging on his door.

"Harold, get up. There's someone to see you. Come down as soon as you are dressed. Hurry."

Still half asleep Harold came down to the café and was shocked to see two policemen looking very solemn.

"Mr Steptoe? Mr Harold Steptoe?"

"I am Harold Steptoe."

"You better sit down son." Said Bert. White faced, Harold sat down and looked up at the policemen.

"Mr Steptoe, I am very sorry to have to tell you your father is dead."


	14. Chapter 14

Harold stared at the policeman, unable to take in what he just said.

"M-my father is dead?" The policeman looked at him kindly.

"I'm sorry Sir but we have to go through these formalities. Are you Harold Albert Kitchener Steptoe, formerly of Oil Drum Lane, Shepherds Bush?" Harold nodded.

"And is your father Albert Ladysmith Steptoe of Oil Drum Lane, born 26 December 1899?"

"Yes, that's my father." The policeman sat beside Harold and consulted his notebook.

"He was found yesterday by the milkman, apparently the gates were closed so he forced them open. He found your father in the living room of the house, gassed. It seems the flame had been blown out while he was asleep in his chair, the gas was still switched on and he didn't wake up. I'm very sorry Mr Steptoe."

"Will you need me to identify the body?" Asked Harold. The policeman shook his head.

"That won't be necessary Sir, the milkman identified him." Harold nodded.

"He's a decent chap, I'll have to go round and thank him." He seemed to be in a daze.

"Thank you for coming officers." Said Bert.

"Will Mr Steptoe be alright?"

"He'll be fine, he has friends who can help him through this."

"Very well Sir, I wish you a good day." The policemen left the café. Bert poured a mug of tea, added a generous splash of whisky and handed it to Harold.

"Drink this Harry." Harold raised the mug to his lips and took a sip. "Now you drink that while I go and make a few calls."

Within 20 minutes Jan, Stuart, Pete and Louise arrived at the café. Jan was the first to greet him.

"How are you Harry?" She asked, hugging him. "Bert rang and told me what happened so we came straight away."

"You didn't have to come."

"Of course we did." Said Louise, also hugging him. "You don't think we would let you go through this alone do you?"

"But you didn't know him, why should you be bothered?"

"It's not him we are interested in." This was Pete. "We want to make sure our friend gets through this. We know you don't have any family, and you can't do it on your own, so here we are." That was when Harold broke down. The girls held him tightly as his body shook with wracking sobs, all the pain and frustration, hurt and sadness, coming out of him for the first time in his life.

The gang were as good as their word. Each of them taking on a task to organise the funeral and make sure Harold was ready for it. He had managed to pull himself together after the shock of his father dying and was very grateful to them for their help. He knew he could not have done it without them.

The day of the funeral arrived. The church was full, which surprised Harold as he thought his father had no friends. He recognised a couple of other totters who had known his father and thought some of the others were too. He had no idea most of those there had come to support him as well as show their respects.

He sat at the front, Jan and Louise sat one side of him and Carole and Yvonne sat on the other side as they watched the coffin brought in. Pete, Ben, Roger and Stuart carried the coffin, barely bigger than a child's, and set it down before the altar.

Surrounded by his friends Harold stood at the graveside as the coffin was lowered into the ground. When they had all tossed in a handful of soil they left quietly, Harold had requested he be left alone.

"I want to hate you for all you did, but I can't. You are my father, my flesh and blood. You stopped me doing anything that would take me away from you and the yard, I resent you for that, but I don't hate you. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine. I have friends who will help me, and a pretty good life now. Give Mum my love when you see her. Goodbye Dad." He wiped away a tear as he walked from the grave.


	15. Chapter 15

As always nothing belongs to me, I bow to the genius of Ray Galton and Alan Simpson.

Chapter 15

"Harry, have you done anything with the yard yet?" Asked Pete. It was 6 months after Albert's death and the friends were at art class. Harold had discovered a talent for drawing, particularly with charcoal, and Francois had encouraged him.

"No mate, haven't really had time. I suppose I should get round to it though I doubt if anyone would want to buy it."

"It's a fair-sized plot of land, and where it is you could make a few hundred. You should ask an estate agent to come round and value it."

"Yeah, I might just do that. Seems a shame for it to stay empty and unused."

"You could buy your own place with it." Suggested Roger. "Then invite us all round for parties."

"What would be the point of that? It would just be taking money from Bert."

"Are you saying we spend a lot of time at Bert's?" Asked Louise.

"Be honest Lou, we're his best customers." They all laughed at this as it was true. They spent less time at the pub and more at Bert's, where he gave them a discount as he enjoyed their company.

"Anyone heard from Stuart and Yvonne lately?" The couple had married three months ago and moved to Wales where they had opened a gift shop and café. They were missed by the rest of them and there were plans to visit them later in the year.

"I have." Said Jan. "Nothing exciting, just telling me about the shop and the local people and the weather. They send their love to everyone."

"It's finished." Announced Harold. He stood back while the others came and stood round. Francois joined them.

"Bloody hell!" He exclaimed, totally forgetting his French accent. "That is amazing Harry."

"Best thing you've ever done mate, and I mean that."

"Did he really look like that?" Asked Carole.

"He looked exactly like that." Said Roger. "Harry's got him down to a t, I can almost hear the old git speaking." They all admired the pencil drawing Harold had done of his father. He had decided to do it shortly after the funeral and had worked on it for weeks. Some weeks he had left it alone for something else but had always come back to it. Drawing his father had been his way of purging him from his life, now it was finished.

"What are you going to do with it?" Asked Pete.

"Not a clue, I'm just glad it's finished."

"It really should go on display." Said Ben. "It really is that good." Harold laughed at this.

"Who on earth is going to want that monstrosity on display?"

"Gerald would." Said Francois. Gerald was his partner who ran a small art gallery. "He would love to show it off. If you agree I'll get him to frame it and put it on display. What do you say Harold?" Harold shrugged.

"Have it if you like. I don't want it, I just wanted to draw it. Take it with my blessing."


End file.
